Concerns about the Living Dead #36

I've been so busy dealing w/ my "life", paying bills, finding a home, looking for a job, learning a new city, that I've completely neglected to plan escape routes and pursue the finding of household items as weapons in the likely event of a zombie apocalypse. Shit! Okay. Breathe. Take a moment to plan. You don't have the money right now to outfit your apartment with the necessary bludgeons and hardware to keep the door safe.

I'm on the 8th floor of a 12 story building. The elevators don't work half the time anyway, so that's nothing to worry about when the shit hits the fan. I'm about 10 feet from the staircase door. That's the only way out. Correction, our windows overlook a slight edge, certainly enough to stand on...and perhaps make your way down via that. But, must beware of open windows on lower floors.

We have so very little in our apartment right now, since our belongings are still in Phoenix. Nothing to barricade the door, and certainly nothing to use as a weapon. Nope. A quick look around reveals the metal step stool. It'll work. It's not practical, but it will keep the ghouls at bay, and can be used as a bludgeon.

What the hell am I even planning for? I'm in a major metropolitan area. I'm fucked no matter how much I plan. You can't get out of my area during a regular day, or during a premiere event, and I'm sure you can't get out when the world comes to an end, via predatory humanoids with a taste for human flesh. Dammit. Why didn't I just move to the mountains of Montana? They'll never find me there.

Although, there are plenty of sidewalk performers/freaks in our area. They would make ideal bait to busy the flesh-eaters. That's something to think about. More time is needed to plan. I'll keep you, my avid readers of 1, posted on my plan. In the end, with my expertise and stock-piling of supplies, might not make this Hollywood haven such a bad place to be after all...when it all comes crashing down.

Later.